


If You Go Away

by mistresstabris



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Best Friends, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresstabris/pseuds/mistresstabris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Butch insists on going with Clara on a trip and gets shot. Rated M (in case it's too much for a teen rating) for language and violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen._

Clara had initially planned for it to be a quick food run, in-and-out, no complications. The nearest neighborhood from Minefield, her headquarters, couldn't have been more than 5 miles away. She had been out in the Wasteland for a few months now. A band of raiders and a stray mirelurk were not an issue for a seasoned huntress like Clara. Her companion, on the other hand, learned the majority of his fighting skills from his time in the vault. Killing a person was definitely harder than killing the occasional radroach. It didn't help that he was afraid of the disgusting insects.

_Why didn't you just listen to me, Butch? God, there's so much blood._

"Are you leaving the Butch-man all alone?" Butch asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"Don't start with me, Butch. I'll only be gone for an hour or so. You can spend some alone time with Dogmeat," Clara said, as Dogmeat ate from his bowl. "Or your hand."

"As tempting as that is, girlie, I still wanna go with ya."

"No."

"Please," Butch pleaded, throwing in the face he knew would make her putty in his hands.

"Jesus Christ, Butch. You're such an asshole. Get your gear and we'll head out."

_He's so heavy. Why does he have to be so heavy?_

Clara and Butch began their trek towards their destination. In the distance, there was a column of smoke. The pair readied their weapons, a modded sniper rifle and a combat shotgun. Clara was glad that she was able to convince him to ditch his 10 mm. She figured that he had a better chance of not getting shot without it.

"Raiders? Ah, shit."

"I can take care of them while you hang back, doll."

"Nah. This Tunnel Snake is gonna kick some ass," Butch declared, checking his firearm.

"Are you sure?"

"Quit asking questions and let's go already!" Butch shouted as he ran ahead. Clara ran to catch up with him and scouted ahead. The pair hid behind the wall of a nearby dilapidated building.

"I see 5 of them. I'll take care of the ones on the far end near the house, you rush the other two, and I'll help you out once I'm done."

"You got it, babe."

"One, two, go." Butch charged ahead and took out the first enemy with no problem. Clara dispatched 2 raiders with the same ease and prepared her shot for the third when she heard a scream. Her aim was thrown off and she missed completely. She aimed again and assassinated her target before bolting towards her companion.

_You fucking idiot. You **fucking** idiot._

One of Butch's marks had a combat shotgun as well, and was much quicker on his feet than Butch was. Thankfully, Clara was the quickest. She grabbed her Chinese officer's sword and slashed through the raider's throat, leaving him to drown in what should have been giving him life. When she ran back to Butch's side, she was only able to see his arm. It was filled with shrapnel and dripping with blood. Their situation only grew worse when she gingerly rolled him over and discovered a gaping wound on his side, just below his ribs.

"Oh, God. God, no." Clara frantically moved her hands over his broken body, half in shock, half hoping that some magic will sprinkle from her fingers. She tore off her pack and dug through, tossing out many necessities before finding her bandages. They were not much, but she figured that they would suffice until she could drag him into the house. Before she could do that, she had to check inside the house. She reassured her fallen friend that she would return and grabbed his weapon. Two people, two headshots. It took less than 5 minutes for her to take care of them and clear herself a path to the bedroom upstairs. Butch had not moved, but he had not died. Not yet. But he was close, so close.

_Don't you die. I'll resurrect you just to kick your ass._

Clara soon regretted not focusing much on Strength training. It was a struggle for her to carry his dead weight up the stairs, but she was determined not to abandon him on the stairs. Her trip to the bedroom from the stairs was much easier and she get him down gently on the Pre-war matress. She shed her armor to allow herself more freedom. She then tore off his armor to expose his wounds for her to treat.

"Why does everything around here have to be so dirty?" Clara asked herself as she turned a sheet into makeshift bandages. "We are so lucky that there was a cabinet of these things. Rare shit, that."

Butch hacked up a combination of mucus and blood, setting Clara even more on edge. She haphazardly poured disinfectant over his side and pushed him into a sitting position. She put on the strips of sheet onto him as fast as she could possibly muster. Butch made a painful groan as he was set back down. He finally passed out from the blood loss. Clara appreciated the fact that his arm was not bleeding as much as his other wound. This gave her the opportunity to start cleaning it. She began her process of tweeze, clean, tweeze, clean. She picked up her Dad's medical lessons quickly, otherwise she would be in a different boat, a sinking ship. Clara spent the afternoon with Butch, mostly caring for him, but also to comfort herself.


	2. Chapter 2

It was past 10 when Butch woke up. He slowly rose from the withered bed and gazed at Clara.

"You're finally awake. Took you long enough."

"Sorry, babe. I was a little preoccupied. Ya know, dyin'.

"I'm tired of your excuses, Butchie," Clara rebutted, squeezing his hand. He chuckled, choking slightly in the process. He slowly took in his environment and donned a confused expression.

"Where the hell are we?"

"You know that house we were gonna check out?" Butch nodded and closed his eyes.

"Well, you got shot by some raider scum. Then I had to drag your sorry ass here and fix you up," Clara informed him as she took another bite of her Cram. He eyed her food, indicating his hunger. She was prepared and pulled out a Salisbury steak that she had reserved for him.

"Are you tryin' to get into my pants, girlie? Cuz' it's workin'." Clara laughed and stood up before beginning to tidy the room.

"In your dreams, DeLoria. Eat until I get back," she said, walking to the kitchen to store her things.

"You gonna leave the Butch-man here all alone?"

"I'm just going downstairs. Do what I told you."

"You're the boss," he said as he bit into his preserved dinner. Clara found her way to her temporary base where she was keeping track of her backpack and the supplies she had pulled from the various cabinets of the house. She put down the things that she had cleaned up from the bedroom and grabbed something she had been working on while Butch was asleep. She slowly worked her way up the stairs, not wanting to make too much noise. Clara sat down on the chair next to the bed.

"So, you can tell that your side and arm is fucked up?"

"Well, yeah. They hurt real bad."

"Well, while you were taking a catnap, I reinforced those spots. Half to protect you some more and half to remind you not to be an idiot again."

"You did this for me? You're the best friend I've ever had, man!" Butch exclaimed. "Where'd ya get this plating and shit?"

"Well, I don't think the assholes outside are really going to miss their armor."

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'm gonna head to bed. I'm exhausted."

"Don't make it weird or anything, but wanna sleep here? Practical reasons, yada yada."

"I don't know, Butchie. If I got into bed with you, I don't think I could contain myself."

"Har har har. Just get in," Butch told her, almost regretting that he extended the invitation. Clara went into the nearby bathroom to provide herself a faux sense of privacy. She stripped off her armor, crusted with dirt and dried blood. She wished to be clean, just for a day, but that day would not come soon enough. She grabbed a Pre-war dress to sleep in. Clara grabbed a sheet-- _Why does this house have so many damn sheets?_ \--and lay next to her companion.

"Sweet dreams. Love you."

"I said not to make it weird," Butch answered, half turning to Clara. They smiled at each other and adjusted themselves, putting their backs together.

"Night, doll."

"Night, babe."


End file.
